Endurance athletes Charlie Engle (left) and Andre Kajlich are attempting to break the records for running and wheeling across the United States. They plan to start at the Los Angeles Marathon on March 9, and then keep going, through the Boston Marathon on April 21 — a distance of more than 3,000 miles. The record for running is 46 days; for wheeling, it’s 71 days. Engle and Kajlich plan to do it in 44. Follow their progress here.

When tragedy struck the Boston Marathon last year, I was watching the race live online. I was following the progress of a few friends, but mostly I was just soaking in the vibe. I've had the good fortune to run Boston several times in a 20-year span, so even though I wasn't there last year, I knew what it felt like to cross that finish line. It is a gloriously satisfying moment that should be cherished by any runner lucky enough to have the experience. So when two cowardly nut jobs imposed their twisted view of the world on the runners and spectators at last year's race, I was angry. I sat glued to the television, hoping for a swift capture of the culprits. I'll admit I wanted to see the two brothers suffer the same fate they made others suffer. I wanted them to hurt and be forced to think about their own loved ones being hurt.

I fought the urge to run to Boston to tell the terrorists personally that they never should have picked runners to target because runners don't give up and runners don't quit. You can't stop the Boston Marathon. Whatever they thought they might accomplish would not have happened no matter how many runners they hurt. And with a finger pointed in their faces, I would tell them to never try to interfere with a runner who has worked his or her butt off for a Boston qualifying time. That just won't fly.

Nearly one year after the tragedy in Boston, about 40,000 runners are set to run the marathon on April 21. If race organizers had been able to open up the course to accommodate 100,000 runners, that's how many would show up. A mindless act of terror only served to spark the resolve of runners from around the world. No matter how many times terrorists strike America, we will always rise to the occasion. I think that should be obvious by now. The Boston Marathon will go on, stronger and better than ever.

Andre Kajlich and I wanted to do something big to show our own kind of support for the city of Boston and for runners the world over. We hatched an idea called Run2Boston so audacious that it demanded attention. We would try to cross the United States faster than any runner and any wheelchair athlete ever had before. We would start in LA and run and roll all the way to Boston in 44 days, arriving just in time to join the tens of thousands of runners in Hopkinton.

We started to plan this Run2Boston about three months ago, an impossibly short time period to dial in the logistics of this type of undertaking, let alone train for it. (By comparison, my run across the Sahara took nearly two years to plan.)

But we were determined to roll the dice and see if we could pull it off. Sponsors like HOKA, VitaCoco, and TiLite came on board. The Challenged Athletes Foundation and Runwell (the Linda Quirk Foundation) joined in as charitable partners.

Our training has been rigorous to say the least. I have been averaging more than 180 miles of running per week while Andre was closer to 300 miles of wheeling. Everything was in place ...and then it wasn't. First, my crew chief and longtime friend had unavoidable surgery, so he is out of commission for a few months. Next, our RV and support vehicle fell through, along with a chunk of our funding. Even our documentary filmmaker had to withdraw due to a family emergency.

These were all solvable problems individually, but in total, they were just too overwhelming. To state the obvious, most of these challenges could have been overcome if we had the money to just go replace what was lost. But that simply wasn't the case. So Andre and I have made the very difficult but unavoidable decision to delay our Run2Boston until a later date.

I know it's not as if the world was sitting around wondering whether Andre and I could actually make it to Boston in time, but I still feel like we have let down a lot of people, and for that I am really sorry.

My wife, Astacianna, reminds me to be grateful for what was gained during the past few months. Through planning and training for Run2Boston, I met new friends, some of them runners but many of them people who just wanted to support me. I got the chance to speak with drug addicts, some recovering and some in the depths of active addiction. I got the chance to test myself with a new training program that was entirely based on how I felt each day rather than being dictated by a schedule. I am in the best physical condition of my life, which is a good thing no matter what. I got to know Andre even better, and our friendship is a powerful thing. Success and failure are necessary measuring sticks, but it's hardship and struggle that create the lasting bonds of friendship.

Today I feel kind of lost and directionless, but experience tells me that this feeling will not last. I'm not sad. Sadness should be reserved for real tragedies. I'm disappointed, but life is dotted with enough disappointment already so dwelling on it is just foolish.

I don't want to stay in that place because it serves no purpose. Run2Boston was conceived in the purity of trying to do something good for others that would also push me to new levels of self-discovery. I believe that the very best ideas are selfless and selfish at the same time. I need to push myself, even if I don't understand why. I have yet to learn how to stand in place because I'm afraid I will just sink into the earth. I am used to facing hard times and coming out the other side a better stronger person. This time I didn't get to test myself the way I wanted, but that's just the way things worked out. I will make this run across America happen someday soon, and Andre will be there with me.

I want to thank Runner's World for helping us to share the details of Run2Boston. Hopefully the story will continue.

I also want to thank all of you who have followed along during this journey. Hopefully you will continue to stay interested in my exploits.

More importantly, I hope that you find a way to make your own epic journey happen. Good luck to all the Boston Marathon runners this year. I will be watching online, holding my breath just a little until the last runner crosses the finish line.

Maybe it is better to avoid that word, but as much as I wish it were otherwise, we aren't going to be crossing the country in a couple weeks. In that much, we failed.

Even so, I've learned that dwelling on things only keeps my thoughts swimming in circles; instead of problem-solving, I dream. While I love dreaming, I've found that the doing is better, even at the cost of failing sometimes. So, I am doing my best to be productive, move forward, and get busy planning what’s next.

That isn't to say I am just fine with this. I have tried nearly everything to avoid changing our plans, even desperately coming up with ways to save it. Not only did I want to make it happen, but I also fought hard because I was dreading the thought of telling people it wasn't going to happen.

TiLite built me an amazing and quite pricey wheelchair, and I’ve told everyone I know about this trek (as I’ve done here). The last rash idea of mine was to head out from LA and try to find someone each day (via social media, running clubs, or something) to drive my car 70 miles so I could sleep in it, and then find another person willing to do the same the next day. I figured with enough food, water, and convenience stores in between, I could give it a go.

Ultimately my little sister talked me out of it, citing trust, insurance, logistics, safety, “a bad feeling,” and other very reasonable reservations about the idea. I was willing to put this into the hands of others and thought it would even be a nice testament to the human spirit and the overwhelming kindness that exists out there.

Really, though, it would have been asking a lot of others, I would still have to throw a lot of my limited (to say the least) resources at a half-baked idea, and I would not have gotten the plan past my wife in any case. Even now, with my disappointment ebbing and new plans being formed, I'm still not sure if it wasn't worth trying to see how far I could have gotten.

More than previously, I've been pondering "Why?" Before investing even more energy, why do I want to do these things? Well, in many ways I am just like you -- I am a runner. I might look different doing it, but there are more similarities between what you do and what I do than you might think.

There is a constant fight going on between my worst and best selves. It can be a struggle just to get out there, to wake up early, to get off my bum, to eat what I should (even though I enjoy the work and even the healthiest foods).

Something in me often resists doing what feels better and helps me live in a way that ultimately makes me happier. I love getting out there, and it isn't hard much of the time. There is so much to enjoy, like getting home after a miserable two-hour run in a nasty, windy, 40-degree downpour.

Yeah, there is the suffering, but it is accompanied by feeling tough as nails and the pride and resolve that you’d absolutely do it again. We get hurt or sidetracked (by nonsense, media, a few extra ZZZs, and worse), but ultimately we get back out there, make bigger goals, and usually knock 'em all down.

I just happen to use a wheelchair. I used to run, but trust me--relying on a wheelchair, not having legs, or whatever it is--nothing can stand in the way of happiness if we make the best of it. All of this is simply my attempt at that.

In 2003, on the anniversary of Pearl Harbor, I survived getting hit and run over by a train. Most likely, nobody is to blame but me. In a completely different scenario, Jeff Bauman, whom I've had the pleasure of meeting over dinner a couple of times now, survived something even more terrible last year in Boston.

Both of these are high on the list of horrible things that can happen to you. Yet we are alive, and we both have plenty to enjoy.

It also put our plans for Run2Boston into a very real perspective. This little setback just isn't that big of a deal. I'll keep working on it until I get it done. Hopefully, I'll get to take on even bigger projects -- Charlie and I have a nice, big list of them.

When I was still in the intensive care unit of ÚVN Praha (Central Military Hospital in Prague) after that little train accident I was in, I didn’t know what the heck I was going to do next or if I’d ever really be happy again. While I tried to be optimistic, I was probably more scared than anything. It was a struggle over the next year to come to the conclusion that the best thing I could do was just plod ahead, do my best, and find things I could enjoy to replace all the fear, regrets, and anger with productive thinking. That has led to many great experiences and some awesome opportunities. Never did I think I would start doing endurance sports. I only got into triathlons about four years ago through the Challenged Athletes Foundation, and I loved it. That has led to longer and more challenging things, which has brought about this desire to Run2Boston.

Photo by Mariana Kajlich

Over the past weeks I've been reminded what it is to have a community pulling together in unison for the same thing. The excitement in Seattle leading up to the Superbowl has been incredibly infectious. Just the other night on my ride home I was sitting on someone's lawn fixing a flat in the dark, and some guy came by and asked if I needed help. “I got it, thanks,” I said. “Cool, man, GO HAWKS!” he shouted.

It has felt that way with Boston and the Boston Marathon, too, which is one of the reasons this record-breaking crossing is so cool. Not because there will be a spotlight on Charlie or me. I hardly think we will try and compete with everything surrounding it this year. I simply want to celebrate, in the best way I can, the many positive aspects of life that the Boston Marathon represents. Our journey to get there will start six weeks before, and I think it will be a great kickoff.

Just getting to the starting line in LA has been difficult. We've had some great conversations with potential sponsors, but it hasn't quite come together yet, and the start date is disturbingly close. A high point so far has been my connection with TiLite, a wheelchair company and the manufacturer of the wheelchair I've used ever since my accident 10 years ago. They are made here in Washington state, so last week I made the trip out to their production facility and was fitted for my Run2Boston chair. When Charlie and I first began talking about taking on this challenge, I knew I couldn't do this with him if I was in a racing wheelchair.

Photo by Mariana Kajlich

There is a good reason that the record at Boston is just 1:18:25 in a wheelchair (Josh Cassidy, 2012) but 2:03:01 (Geoffrey Mutai, 2011) for a runner. Especially going down hills, racing wheelchairs are much faster. So I thought a normal, everyday wheelchair would be the right way to go. I love the idea that someone in a non-racing chair might be able to hang with the fastest runner to ever cross America. Still, I’ve had to find out if it is even feasible.

For my first training ride I parked four miles out from work for the first test ride. I was in pretty decent shape (about a month after Kona), but it was tough. I was super-slow and very sore. With the four-mile return after work, I was unable to ride the next day. The lone jogger I saw didn't look too fresh and still flew right past me. I had a long way to go. Over a few months I've had to try to build quickly without overdoing it. Consistency has been key, as well as the willingness to call a longer ride short if it doesn't feel right. I'm pleased with how it's gone, but there's still work to do, and over the next few weeks I'll need to get myself ready for the punishment. The wheelchair being built right now should help.

Photo by Mariana Kajlich

My old chair seems like it was built under the assumption that a disabled guy with no legs would likely put on a lot of weight, so it was ordered much too wide. Training would not be going well right now if it weren't for my friend and fellow competitor, Justin Meaders, who gave me a better-fitting old chair that he wasn't using. Besides building me a properly fitting chair, TiLite will set me up with the best possible components. My chair will have a lighter, stiffer carbon camber tube (it's cool, trust me) and front casters with shock absorbers to handle the rough rural roads and a few thousand miles of shoulder debris. My wife and I made the drive over the mountains for the fitting, a facility tour, and a chance to hear about the properties of titanium that make for an exceptional wheelchair but complicate the build. The first ride is going to be great--just a few more days of waiting!

Photo by Mariana Kajlich

Worries still abound, and there are plenty of things that need to go our way so we even get the chance to attempt this thing. Some time ago Charlie described what it is like to be in the midst of something like this. He spoke about being out there with only the goal to keep moving forward.

I am looking forward to focusing on just that.

The Challenged Athletes Foundation (CAF) is a charity near and dear to my heart. Not only has it helped me, it has helped thousands upon thousands of athletes who have found themselves in a similar situations, including victims from the bombings last year. Just as I take on every athletic endeavor, I will be on this run as a Challenged Athlete and I'm asking, if you can, please donate to the CAF at our fundraising page.

Thank you!

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BY CHARLIE, Feb. 4: Victories and Setbacks

Big ideas always bring a huge rush of adrenaline. For me, every adventure starts with a familiar buzzing in my brain, long before the real action starts. And like most big ideas, the genesis for Run2Boston has its roots in other adventures. In 2008, I attempted and failed to set this very same record. I was disappointed, but I assumed the passage of time would allow me to let it go gracefully. I have always tried not to dwell on success or failure because they are both fleeting, and I don't want memories of the past to be what sustains or pains me. But this one just keeps nibbling at the edges of my mind, telling me that I have unfinished business to attend to. In 2008, I started day one of the run with a nasty case of MRSA (staph infection), and I just never found a rhythm. So I decided in order to put this painful itch behind me, I needed to scratch it until it bleeds. Run2Boston will definitely make me bleed. But I have to try again. I may not fare any better this time, but that doesn't matter so much. What matters is trying again. I have to try.

Once I made the decision to do this run, I felt equal amounts of excitement and dread. But in general, I was euphoric, glad that I still have the passion to take on something so enormous. At the same time, I am baffled by my own disregard for my physical well-being. I just got married, and I have "real" work to do in order to build a little stability into my quirky life. While I have never craved normalcy, in recent years I have certainly desired more stability. Now that I have that stability, I can't stop myself from trying this Run2Boston. In the past couple of months, I have had people tell me that they admire me, but I am foolish to try for this record. I have also been told that I'm an egotistical idiot but that I have a good shot to break the record. I think everyone is right. I am an idiot sometimes, and I have a need to seek validation to offset my insecurity and justification to balance irrational choices. But that's just who I am. Perfectly flawed.

I am an unreasonable optimist in the face of overwhelmingly bad odds. Normally it takes a little while for reality to rudely shove its way into the picture, but I have now had a healthy dose of it during my training. Just a few weeks ago I felt so confident. I was certain I could pull this off. But my once-strong optimism has been slowly displaced by the mind-numbing realization that I will need to run 500 miles per week for six straight weeks in order to break this record. The numbers sound so improbable that they make me laugh. One day I can train for 50 miles and feel invincible. Then the next day's shorter recovery run brings my well-worn body to its knees. I guess I better get used to feeling that way. Nobody is forcing me to do this, so I have no room to complain.

I fully understand the physical demands of this undertaking, but it's the other parts of organizing an expedition of this magnitude that truly make me crazy. The past couple weeks have been filled with small victories and frustrating setbacks. Sponsors, both financial and product-only, have time after time shown enthusiastic initial interest only to fizzle out in unreturned phone calls or mumbled explanations about budgets and priorities. I have been down this path a few times, so I am neither offended nor deterred by rejection. I understand when sponsors say they don't have it in their budget to get involved. I get it when investors tell me that they can't see how they can profit from this run. What will they get out of it? My answer is always the same: I can't guarantee a record or even a successful crossing because nothing is certain when a human being is trying to run 70 miles per day for 6 weeks.

But while there are no guarantees of a record, there is absolutely a promise that I will give my full and best effort. I will sweat and laugh and bleed and puke. I will talk to people along the way, invite runners to join me, and above all, I will try to be a positive ambassador for running and fitness and sobriety and Boston and my sponsors and supporters.

I will tell 5K runners they can do a half-marathon. I will encourage half-marathon runners to try a marathon. I absolutely will push marathoners to try the next challenge, to run a few miles farther, to dig deeper in order to search for the right amount of challenge to make them wonder if they can finish something they never thought possible. I want to keep reminding people that just because something seems impossible doesn't mean we aren't supposed to try. That said, it is sometimes difficult to keep trying to push the boulder up the mountain. I just want to run, but it's never that simple.

While these last weeks have been challenging, thanks to 150-mile training weeks and nonstop meetings with sponsors and charitable partners, there has been some great news. VitaCoco, the number one alternative beverage company in America, has decided to join the Run2Boston team as a sponsor partner. The company touts a healthy lifestyle platform and a broad following via social media and live events. I first used VitaCoco at the 2013 Badwater Ultramarathon on my way to a fifth place finish overall and a new age group record. I love the product and the company attitude. We are grateful for their support.

The other big news came when Linda Quirk and her Runwell foundation decided to partner with me on this run. Runwell is a non-profit foundation dedicated to inspiring individuals around the world to lead healthy, active lifestyles. It encourages anyone involved with drug or alcohol addictions, from chemical dependents to their friends and families, to get involved in sports. Runwell believes partnering sports with addiction treatment helps to keep individuals - and their support bases - committed to recovery. The foundation focuses on funding existing scholarship programs and support-based training facilities that involve the entire family, as Runwell strongly believes the battle against addiction is seldom won alone.

There are some big things that need to fall into place this week. Sponsors need to come through, investors need to step up, and I need to train. More than anything though, I need to remember that life is good, running makes me happy, and I am no longer Running In Place.

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BY CHARLIE, Jan. 16: Unpredictable Is the New Normal

Let's get right to the point. I ran 110 miles this week, worked with The Campus Agency to add sponsors for my Run2Boston, planned the filming of Run2Boston, and met with publishers about my book proposal. Oh, and I got married! All in all it was a pretty normal week. ...Kidding! Well, not kidding about what happened but about it being normal. Normalcy is overrated; predictability is a snore. Adaptation to change is what makes life cool and interesting.

Anyone who has ever trained for a race knows that it's easy to come up with a training schedule but almost impossible to follow that plan perfectly. Life tends to get in the way. I have always felt that successful training and racing is almost entirely dependent on how I adjust to the things that don't go as planned.

For me, training has always been mostly instinctive and not so rigid. I listen to my body (most of the time), and I try arrange my schedule to allow for a balance of training and "real life." That said, I could never have foreseen the kind of week I just had. It started with a long, tedious run last Saturday. It was dark and only 16 shivering degrees when I started running for 10 hours around the track at UNC Chapel Hill, a couple of miles from my home. It was my third consecutive Saturday dominated by running in maddeningly monotonous circles. I know it sounds crazy to run on a track for so long, but I am trying hard to sort out my pacing for the Run2Boston. I have been running ultra distance for long enough to understand how to pace myself--or so I thought. The fact is, I am still prone to making the classic mistake of running too fast too soon. When running a marathon, this mistake can make for a painful last few miles as the tank runs empty. But in a run across a continent, going too fast too early could crush me, as it did in 2008. I find great comfort in unimaginable discomfort. I find solace in the inconsolable miles that come between feeling good and feeling empty. I hate running on the track, so that's why I do it. I despise running in cold weather, so I force myself out the door when it's coldest.

The fact is, no matter how many laps I run, no matter how many pacing charts I make, no matter how many chia-powered smoothies I drink, the inevitable is that I will make mistakes along this circuitous path to the LA Marathon and as I journey step by painful step eastward to Boston. But that's not that point. Frankly, those mistakes won't even be important. My response, my reflexes to the challenges, the roadblocks, the detours, the mammoth blisters on my toe--those will be the key to my success or stumble.

The unpredictable and unforeseen await me. Still, amid this swirl of dizzying variables, there are a few things I can guarantee. I won't get stopped at the gates of Libya ...and I will always adapt. That's what I do. Sobriety. Hailstorms. Jungles. Deserts. Prison. Transcontinental madness. And now marriage, perhaps my greatness adventure. I adapt. Why be normal when you can be so much better? Run2Boston will bring out my best, my worst, and everything that lives in between. But I am dedicated to the unpredictable. 16 degrees or 116 degrees, I will keep running.

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BY ANDRE, Jan. 16: Endless Opportunity

Run2Boston is happening. It is happening, like really soon. Not being the type to worry too much or freak out, I am shoving all the concerns somewhere else. Ahh, that feels better. Money, logistics, training, equipment - there are more undone things than done things, and some I don't know how we'll resolve.

So basically it is a good thing we are resolute, Charlie and I, otherwise we would laugh this off as that funny idea we once had.

Training is the only thing that I have great control over out of the many things receiving my time and effort. I'm working with the Campus Agency on sponsors, building our website with Charlie's new brother-in-law Jeff, mapping and remapping the route, trying to get a wheelchair built, and--I can't remember much else. Some of it is nerve-racking. I don't know if companies are going to jump on board this project, but we can only hope for the best with some of that. Each day, however, I can schedule my day as efficiently as possible to make sure my training gets done. Since I work full time, I've had to figure out how to make it all happen.

The biggest thing I've got going is a fantastic 15-mile commute that I do in my wheelchair. It is hilly, the weather is gross, and it takes a really long time to get to work and back. But in my mind, I free up 40 minutes each way because that's how long the drive would be through traffic. Thirty miles a day doesn't make sense for everybody, but let me try to sell you on my workout: I get one hour and 20 minutes of free exercise time, the chance to see an actual sunrise in Seattle, a commute more green than any hybrid or electric car (green being the moss on my bones), and I can still listen to the radio. Oh yeah, and each day I get closer and closer to breaking a massively gnarly record (my opinion) while I'm at it.

Photo by Mariana Kajlich

I'm not directly working on mental preparations just yet--those will probably start a week or two out. For now I am doing my best to shove all that off. There is a spooky kind of nervousness that creeps into my head every once in a while when I think about being uncontrollably committed to this thing, out there somewhere in the middle of it. There will come a certain point when we have put in 14- to 16-hour days for 10 days in a row to cover 700 miles. It will probably hurt and be something along the lines of despicable by then. It won't be lost on me that we will have just gotten started and have 34 nearly identical days still waiting for us--that is, if we're lucky.

Which brings me back to the question from my first post, and one I'll undoubtedly be screaming under my skull at some point: Why? Well, a little more about that “why” dawned on me over this weekend. After a long training day Saturday, my wife and I took a road trip out to Cape Flattery, the northwesternmost point in the contiguous United States.

The insight followed a short hike we took out to the point, which I had attempted in my off-road wheelchair. The trail had become too rugged for the chair, and I was forced to “monkey” along the muddy trail with my wife carrying the wheelchair. I was limited, and it wasn't quite what I had planned.

Photo by Mariana Kajlich

Later, I stood by the car along a rocky beach during a stop on the drive home, and I found myself wondering about what I would do if I had legs. Mariana was walking and hopping among the big rocks of the shore, taking in the view up close while I took it in by the car parked on the edge of the trees. As my mind drifted to being able to wander free like her, I found myself in a familiar thought: We dwell on wishes, the things we could do or would do (or will do), and it is not often enough that we simply do something that we can do, right now. Looking back on many points in my life, this has been the case. I squandered a foolish amount of time wishing I had something more or was doing something more exciting. I could have done so much more with that time. When I think of myself before my accident, I didn't realize what I had--that body and the endless opportunities. I'm not going to make that mistake again. Here I am now, the way I am, still a body and still with endless opportunity.

Run2Boston is something I can do, even if “doing” just means the attempt. You bet I want to run across America on two legs or hike some long narrow path with my wife. Yet, I also want to race cross America in a wheelchair, and the biggest difference between them, the only one that matters, is that I'm going to.

Photo by Mariana Kajlich

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BY CHARLIE, Jan. 7: Putting the Puzzle Together

On March 9, Andre Kajlich and I will line up with thousands of fellow athletes to run the Los Angeles Marathon. Once we cross the finish line, we will keep running … and running … and running east, and not stop for the next 44 days. On April 21, after traversing America, Andre and I will reach Hopkinton, Massachusetts, the starting point of the Boston Marathon. If things go our way, once we complete the most famous marathon course in the world, two of the most coveted records in all of endurance sports will have been broken: for me, the fastest crossing of America by a runner and for Andre, the fastest crossing of America by a wheelchair athlete.

At least that’s the plan.

We'll chronicle this adventure, which we're calling Run2Boston, in a series of articles here on runnersworld.com. As you'll see, this series is really like a "making of" story because many parts of the puzzle are still missing. It's like we have the corner pieces and we know what the puzzle is supposed to look like when it's finished but we’re not sure how everything will fit together. For that matter, we can't even find some of the pieces at this moment. But that's pretty typical for an undertaking of this magnitude.

During the preparation phase of this project, we will write about the expedition origins and goals but more than that, we will talk about (complain about?) the often-frustrating process of planning, logistics, training, finding sponsors and money. Andre and I are in this together, but we are very different people with different circumstances, so we will share our stories differently. I love to tell a good story, but in the end I am just a runner who wants to run. In turn, Andre has his own method and perspective.

Run2Boston has deep personal meaning for both us, in part because it is a huge challenge that will require sacrifice and suffering. But it’s more than that. We want Run2Boston to appropriately honor the resilience of runners from around the world as they come to run Boston the year after the tragic bombings of 2013. We want to contribute our voices and energy to the groundswell of enthusiastic runners that will converge on Boston. We will be joined in Boston by Jeff Bauman, who lost both of his legs in the bombing. In an explosive flash, Jeff's life was changed forever as he stood watching the finish of the 2013 race. Now he plans to use his loss to inspire others by wheeling the Boston course only one year later. We will be there by his side.

Personally, I can't imagine what Jeff has gone through since the day he lost his legs. I also can't predict how things will go for me during the Run2Boston. But I am very certain that I will be thinking of Jeff when the inevitable hard moments come my way. He and Andre are both inspirational reminders to me that any circumstance can be overcome with the right attitude.

Charlie at the Badwater Ultramarathon in Death Valley. (Photo by Stacey Astacianna Hatcher)

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BY ANDRE, Jan. 7: Searching for Answers

It is pretty cool to be sharing this project with you all. It’s just a little scary too, because this means it’s really going to happen. Well, at this point I guess it had better happen.

The feeling really isn't too different from signing up for a marathon, triathlon, or an ultra and knowing that the date is set. From sign-up day until race day: That is all the time you have. It's one reason I love races; they provide such a simple and straightforward goal. All you have to pick is a distance and a time (or person) to beat, and you either do it or you don't.

A lot of things will factor into whether Charlie and I are successful in breaking these records. We’ve got plenty of challenges in simply getting to the start of this thing, let alone the finish. So far, I am unsure about how it will all turn out, but I do trust myself. With all the talking I did at holiday parties, I found myself trying to come up with answers for two major questions: How am I possibly going to do 118 marathons in less than 45 days? And why in the world would I want to try?

For the first question, aside from training and mindset, there is some equipment involved. Most of my racing conversations (with “regular” folks) tend to start with me explaining what I race on – since it ain't shoes. I race on a handcycle for cycling races and a racing wheelchair for everything that would usually involve running. From the start of this quest, I knew my choice of ride would be hugely important. But instead of going with either of the above, I am choosing to do this on a very-close-to-stock, normal, everyday wheelchair. While this will make things harder and slower for me, it should pace better with a runner – and it strikes me as the right way to go.

That second question – why I want to do this – remains unanswered, and this may sound a little crazy. I know the desire is there, but sometimes, it’s not until after completing a crazy challenge that I understand what drew me to it. Part of this will be revealed to me along the way. It will also come through this process of sharing my thoughts. But some of it will never make sense. I was having a conversation like this on the flight down to the Brazil135 last January. While trying to explain why, I realized that I couldn’t come up with any satisfying answers. I simply didn’t have a clue why I was going to do that race. The funny thing was that after all the madness that is 135 miles and 33,000 feet of gain, off-road in a wheelchair, I still didn’t have any ideas as to why I felt such a strong need to do it. As I settled in for the long haul back home, I was (and still am) sure that I don’t need to know why it was a good idea.

I think Run2Boston is a worthwhile idea. As this project and the run take shape, I’d love to hear your thoughts – maybe together we can figure out why.

Andre at the Brazil 135 Ultramarathon. (Photo by Monica Otero)

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ABOUT CHARLIE ENGLE

In February 2007, Charlie and two teammates became the first runners to cross the length of the Sahara Desert on foot, more than 4,600 miles through 6 countries. They covered more than 42 miles per day for 111 consecutive days, crossing some of the most hostile terrain on Earth. Charlie immersed himself in the culture and learned the ways of the Tuareg people, the natives of the Sahara Desert. He also set about raising more than $6 million for clean water projects in the Sahara region. The expedition, chronicled in the film Running the Sahara (featuring Matt Damon as Executive Producer and narrator) was brutally long and included encounters with hostile people and dangerous animals. Charlie lost more than 40 pounds and had only 2 showers in 111 days.

Charlie’s adventures have also been chronicled in the film Running America (3,103 miles across the United States). He’s crossed large sections of the jungles of the Amazon, Vietnam and Borneo along with Death Valley, the Gobi and Atacama Deserts. He’s won many of the world’s preeminent adventure and distance races and holds several important endurance records. He’s climbed Denali and many other major peaks. He's a former white water rafting guide and a deep water SCUBA diver. Other highlights include more than 21 years clean and sober and a 21-month stint in federal prison.

In 2003, Andre was a 24-year-old college student in the Czech Republic. After a night of partying with friends in Prague, he said his goodbyes and headed for the subway station, something he had done many times before. From that point, things are a bit fuzzy. Somehow he ended up on the train tracks. The modernized Soviet 81-71M train didn't stop until 4 of the 5 cars had run over Andre. He lost his left leg at the hip and his right leg above the knee. What was left of his body was mashed and mangled but still in one piece.

Since that day, Andre has become one of the highest achieving athletes in the world, winning races and setting records along the way. He is the reigning champion at the Hawaii Ironman (hand-cycle division). He has won multiple titles in paratriathlon and holds the No. 1 world ranking. He recently completed one of the toughest ultras in the world, the Brazil 135. Andre finished the race, with over 33,000 feet of climbing, in an off-road wheelchair, in just over 62 hours. About half of the runners with legs quit the race.